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by littlemachines



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, Fluff, M/M, its not explicit, really its just so sweet and gay it'll make your teeth hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemachines/pseuds/littlemachines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people just needed some time. Asahi Azumane was one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> IT WAS MEANT TO BE SMUT BUT THEN I LISTENED TO I WON'T GIVE UP BY JASON MRAZ ON REPEAT WHILE WRITING AND THIS HAPPENED and that means you should listen to it while reading this and turn into an asanoya mess  
> DEDICATED TO FIRO MY LOVE who refused to read haikyuu!! fanfiction til i wrote some and i felt bad because fi was missing out on a talented fandom. go forth my darling. go read better stuff than this. i love u  
> but uh yeah. i'm sorry if it sucks and its cheesy and lame but haikyuu!! and asanoya are important so yeah. okay. i'ma sleep  
> regardless i hope y'all enjoy it and stuff!!!  
> p.s. it hasn't been read over bc i have a habit of finishing fics at 4am so excuse any mistakes please!!!  
> p.s.s. please consider bi/panromantic tanaka...... tanaka ryuunosuke is Not Straight

* * *

_even the stars, they burn / some even fall to the earth / we’ve got a lot to learn / god knows we’re worth it_

* * *

 

Nishinoya Yuu wasn’t a systematic guy in the slightest. Routine wasn’t his thing and he learnt that quickly when he went to college. Set schedules and deadlines didn’t sit well with him, of course, but it took a while for him to realise that he missed more than just the flexibility of high school.

With assignments attempting to bury him and his parents constantly having the future talk when he rang them up to assure his mom he was still alive (and his liver was intact), playing volleyball at Karasuno felt less like a distant memory and more like a dream. Whenever he looked in the mirror, at his nineteen year old self, he felt a strange pang of sadness at the stretch of unflawed skin of his now (a little) taller, now (somewhat) firmer body that was once covered in bruises and scratches from falling and receiving and receiving and falling. The only show of his time with his high school team - his best friends - was the calluses that could only be seen by fingertips.

And Nishinoya, for all his talk, had no one to feel the battles branded into his skin. In the year he had been an independent student, he hadn’t managed to get himself laid. It would have been less irritating if Tanaka hadn't managed to find himself a girlfriend (he had met her on Skype so he couldn’t even accuse Tanaka of making her up.) It wasn't like Nishinoya didn't have any offers - he knew he wasn't too bad looking plus he was an expert at getting a crowd going. There were plenty of girls that had made eyes at him from across the bar but Nishinoya, instead of retaining eye contact, beckoning, buying drinks, would turn away.

He couldn't explain it and, if he could, he was too proud to admit it - even to himself.

After bombing out on his term paper (apparently he sourced the wrong persuasion theories), Nishinoya missed the simplicity of high school more than ever. Still, being able to angrily drink his failures away was a step up from his school experiences with D's in chemistry. All he had to do was storm into his dorm room and his roommates were handing him whatever bottles were handy with sympathetic pats on his back.

However, when the rest of his friendship group were picking him up by his armpits and dragging him to the regular bar they frequented, he honestly didn't feel drunk. Maybe his tolerance had gotten higher or maybe he was just too sad about being surrounded by so many people and still feeling like his heart was shoved in a volleyball that was still being tossed about in Karasuno High School.

Or worse.

“Hey, is Noya okay?”

A guy to his right snickered. “He flunked his term paper. He's in mourning.”

Everyone laughed and someone ruffled his hair. He ducked away and glared at them all. The room didn't spin. That was a start. “Go away.”

“Aw, come on, Noya-san!”

“It was only one paper.”

 _But it's every day_. Instead of saying that, he listened to his own words and pushed himself out of his roommates' hands. He was walking in a straight line too. Some asshole probably mixed water with vodka. He must have been too angry to notice the taste. He just wanted to stop thinking about a future of failed assignments and a past that felt like it never even happened.

Nishinoya felt like a cliché as he flopped down on a stool at the counter, despite knowing he wouldn't be served (he'd left his fake ID in his room. Hell, he hadn't even planned to come here.) _There has got to be more to life than this._

After hopelessly dismissing the bartender, Nishinoya dropped his head to rest on his forearms and sighed. He wondered if this was what it felt like to have a midlife crisis. He was even despairing at a bar. But if he was having his midlife crisis now, did that mean he would die in his mid-thirties? Wow. He did really need to get laid or-

“What would you like, man?”

At the reappearance of the bartender, Nishinoya lifted his head irritably to snap at him that it hadn't even been a minute but he hadn't changed his mind, he still didn't want to drink (well, he did but he couldn't order so there was no point.) Then he realised that someone had sat down next to him.

“Uh, just a coke. Please.”

Nishinoya almost fell out of his chair at the voice. That voice. _This can't be happening this can't be happening this can't be_ -

People say, ‘speak of the devil and it shall appear,’ but Nishinoya hadn't talked about him.

But he had thought about Asahi Azumane every day.

Neither of them spoke as the bartender slid Asahi's drink towards him before leaving them alone. Asahi's face was turned away but it didn't matter. Nishinoya knew Asahi. He could recognise him, the soft voice, the large gentle hands, the square of his shoulders anywhere.

Nishinoya flushed at the thought and bit down hard on his lip. Maybe he was a little drunk. He felt a lot more flushed and a hell of a lot more awkward. He'd imagined this moment since Asahi moved to a college hours away from Karasuno and never came back. It usually started with Nishinoya punching Asahi square in the jaw before he kissed the wounds he inflicted whilst Asahi cried (probably) and rattled off the confession Nishinoya well and truly deserved.

But with Asahi close enough to touch, Nishinoya, for once in his life, felt speechless. His mouth too quiet but his thoughts too loud, he was left staring at the back of his former team's ace.

And then Asahi looked at him.

The two years had been good to the older boy. Skin as smooth and tanned as ever, laughing wrinkles at the corner of his autumn coloured eyes and his hair, once pulled back neatly to abide to school uniform regulations, was shorter (barely reaching his chin) but wildly pushed back, making Asahi look like he spent most of his time riding a motorbike and stealing balloons from unsuspecting children. Even at a bar full of college students, he stood out. It didn't help that instead of the little goatee he had sported in high school, Asahi had a five o'clock shadow made him look beyond his age of 20. Nishinoya doubted he'd get asked for his ID, especially since-

“You've gotten taller.”

Nishinoya’s eyes narrowed into a glare, lips pursed. He didn't even need to think of a reply before it was out of his mouth. “So have you.”

Asahi blinked once before he laughed softly and it sounded as it always did. Nervous, hopeful, awkward. _Wonderful_.

Something stubborn and painful inside of Nishinoya fell apart at the ring of laughter. Asahi sounded like he always had, daunting appearance aside. He sounds like home.

Finally, Asahi spoke. “I suppose you're right but you've really grown.” He paused and Nishinoya didn't miss the double meaning in his words. “Haven't you, Nishinoya?”

All of his fight was gone. Nishinoya threw himself at the first and only person he had ever loved. Asahi yelped in surprise as Nishinoya's elbow knocked over his glass and his head hit Asahi's chest roughly but he didn't care, his arms clinging to Asahi's torso, Nishinoya's shaking hands knotting into his shirt. _He's home he's home he's home_.

He felt Asahi exhale, felt him smile, as a large warm hand lifted up to cradle the back of Nishinoya's head, another patting his back, a little awkwardly but completely sincerely. Asahi hadn't changed.

Nishinoya was home.

*

He would lie and say he planned to confess to Asahi before the third years graduated but Nishinoya could barely formulate his feelings into straightforward thoughts. Instead, he suppressed them, making the most of playing volleyball with Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi before they left for college and pretending he didn’t spend his nights agonising over every simple touch that passed between him and the team's ace. He watched Asahi graduate with an honest to God happy grin on his face because he was proud of his friend and tried not to blush when Asahi’s parents forced them to get a picture together, Asahi’s arm slung over Nishinoya’s shoulders and his cheek resting against Nishinoya’s hair because he was too tall otherwise. The only good thing that came out of Asahi’s sudden departure was that Nishinoya could stick that picture on his bedroom wall without fearing Asahi would see, would piece together the mess of Nishinoya’s feelings.

Daichi and Sugawara went to a community college together that was an hour away from Karasuno, Suga studying teaching and Daichi majoring in engineering. Everyone had assumed that Asahi – shy, socially awkward, gentle giant Asahi Azumane – would join his high school friends.

When Nishinoya saw Daichi and Suga after finding out, Daichi had shook his head sadly. “We didn’t know, Noya.” His voice was soft and Nishinoya knew that the two of them had worked out his feelings for Asahi, even if he hadn’t figured it out himself.

When Nishinoya had clenched his fists at his side in an attempt to not yell or cry or both, Sugawara touched the back of his hand and murmured, “He just needs some time. He’s got to figure himself out.”

Sugawara didn’t judge his tears and instead smiled as sadly as Daichi had. Nishinoya sometimes forgot that that other people loved Asahi too, not exactly like him but all the same. They missed Asahi too.

“Why didn’t he say goodbye?” Nishinoya had asked finally, pathetically.

“Maybe this isn’t goodbye.”

But a year passed and Asahi’s phone went from voice mail to ‘unavailable.’ Tanaka and Nishinoya graduated together, with the rest of the second years. Daichi and Sugawara stood in the crowds as proud parents, Hinata sobbing, Kageyama yelling at him and the rest of the team sniggering at them both. Nishinoya had unashamedly cried (Tanaka was less graceful and full on _bawled_ ) but it was mostly out of happiness at spending the best years of his life with the best people. He had been part of a flock, a family.

So he ignored the empty space beside Suga and Daichi and left his thoughts on the bird he had followed into the air to when he got home from the graduation after party. That night, he took down the photo of Asahi’s graduation that took place exactly a year ago. Asahi wasn’t coming back. High school was over. Nishinoya would move on.

And he thought he had. He moved to a college that was far enough that he could avoid coming home unless he really had to. He did to Karasuno what Asahi did to him. It was weak but there was too much in that town that reminded him of late night practices and fleeting touches. He buried himself in assignments and drank with people that didn’t care about volleyball so maybe he would stop caring too. He felt wrong without volleyball but playing would remind him how wrong he felt without Asahi.

Nishinoya had thought he had moved on but when Asahi bent his head down to whisper, “I’m sorry,” he knew he hadn’t moved on but rather moved _to_ Asahi, so close he could hear the tiniest of tremors in his voice and his heartbeat synching with Nishinoya’s.

You left houses but could you leave people that you called home?

Nishinoya didn’t reply to Asahi’s apology with words – there were too many and not enough – but his hand finding Asahi’s was answer enough. Nishinoya didn’t care about his college friends, who would pester and possibly judge him for this. All he could think, see, _feel_ was Asahi and it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to validate that Asahi was real and staying.

They took a taxi to Asahi’s hotel in a silence that could be perceived as conflicting but then Asahi’s thumb would rub comforting circles into Nishinoya’s circles and he would marvel at how Asahi Azumane was _comforting_ _him_. Of course, Nishinoya wasn’t blind to the way Asahi bit his lip nervously, aware that some things just didn’t change. He was just happy to hold Asahi’s hand, to stare at him freely, to silently chuckle when Asahi gestured worriedly at himself with his free hand, as if to say, ‘is there something on my face?’

Nishinoya and Asahi shared their first kiss in the back of a taxi, stuck in traffic, in the dark but surrounded by city lights, a simple, gentle touch of hesitant, unbelieving lips, hands clasped and heartbeats loud. The taxi driver even smiled at them when they glanced sheepishly at him as they separated.

As Asahi led them into the hotel, Nishinoya’s stomach began turning with nerves so he did the only thing he could to distract himself from it. “How long have you been here?”

“Yesterday but I’ve spent most of my time catching up on sleep,” he confessed, flushing pink. It should have looked strange but Asahi was too soft, under his ‘wild’ exterior. “It was a four hour drive so...”

“Four hours, huh.” Neither of them had mentioned where exactly Asahi had been for the last two years and this was the first detail Nishinoya had been given.

“Hm.”

Nishinoya swallowed so he didn’t blurt out something stupid and hurtful. “Jeez, Asahi-san, how did you even _find_ me?”

Asahi blushed harder. “Uh, Sugawara helped.”

“Suga-san?” For a moment, Nishinoya felt irritated that their friend hadn’t told Nishinoya that Asahi was planning to pop up out of the blue but if it hadn’t been for Suga’s caring meddling, maybe Asahi wouldn’t have showed up at all. But that also meant… “How long have you been planning to just… _appear_ out of nowhere?”

Asahi tugged on Nishinoya’s hand to stop him in front of a door. He dug into his pocket and opened his hotel room door clumsily with his free hand before answering, “A while. I didn’t expect finding you to be so difficult.”

“But you got Suga-san help?”

Asahi met his eyes as he said, “After. I didn’t want to see Daichi and everyone. Not before I saw you.”

Nishinoya stared at him. It wasn’t that Asahi had been unable to make eye contact in high school but this was different. The assurance in his tone made Nishinoya’s next words shaky. “You’ve really got bold over the years.”

“Funny,” Asahi said, with a wince. “Daichi said I hadn’t changed at all.”

“Were you hoping to?”

Instead of replying straight away, Asahi headed towards the kitchen area, calling “drink?” over his shoulder.

Nishinoya shook his head, dropping to the couch tiredly. Earlier passions were forgotten as the reality of their situation came to light. There were some things that Nishinoya had to know, had to _hear_ , before he could even kiss Asahi again.

Asahi busied himself by making coffee, speaking into his mug. “That’s why I left. It crushed my spirits when Daichi said that. I considered not showing my face in front of you, at all.”

When Asahi laughed, it was soft and filled with self-loathing and Nishinoya’s chest hurt. He hadn’t deserved to be left behind but Asahi had never deserved the burden of his own thoughts.

“But you did,” Nishinoya reminded him gently.

“I did,” he said, still not looking at Nishinoya but his lips were tilted up. “Daichi didn’t mean it the way I took it. Suga said that he was still mad at me. I couldn’t blame him.” He sighed deeply. “Eventually, Daichi came around. He made me get my hair trimmed for the occasion.”

Nishinoya raised a brow and Asahi grumbled, “Okay, so maybe he was expecting me to cut it all off but-”

Nishinoya interrupted him with a laugh he couldn’t hold in. Asahi stared at him, wide eyed, before he smiled in a way that made Nishinoya’s stomach flip. He cleared his throat to distract himself from the feeling of being a high school boy with a crush too big for his body. “So Suga-san somehow found out the bar I went to on a Friday night and shoved you in the general direction, huh?”

“The bar was just chance.” Again, Asahi was sheepish. “I didn’t think the college campus would appreciate me, uh, looking around so I was hoping of asking some locals about you. You’re pretty memorable.”

Nishinoya said nothing of Asahi’s softly spoken words. _You remembered me. You never forgot about me._

“Anyway,” Asahi continued on, “Suga was my voice of reason, I guess. He said you’d want to see me. He also said you’d punch me hence why I’m approaching you with caution.”

Nishinoya didn’t miss a beat. “He’s not wrong.”

Asahi stopped in his tracks to stare at him and Nishinoya stared back unwaveringly. “You actually mean that?”

The younger boy shrugged, casually. “I have two years of pent up frustration to compensate.”

Asahi’s face was priceless. He stilled, blinking at Nishinoya, paling under the intensity of the shorter boy’s gaze. So many fundamental parts of Asahi hadn’t changed, Daichi was right, and Nishinoya was grateful.

Jumping up from the couch, he moved towards Asahi, who began backing away with every step Nishinoya put forward, until he hit the kitchen counter and Nishinoya had caged the gentle beast. “N-Noya-”

Nishinoya cut him off by grabbing the front of Asahi’s shirt to yank him down and press his lips to Asahi’s. Asahi didn’t close his eyes but widened them so Nishinoya didn’t close his, waiting.

And then Asahi’s eyes slid shut and his mouth opened compliantly and Nishinoya tasted the coffee on his tongue, kissing him fiercely, insistently, letting go off his t-shirt to wind his arms around Asahi’s neck, fingers digging into the back of his head as they tangled with the soft strands of his hair. Asahi made a low sound in his throat and Nishinoya pulled back roughly. He couldn’t pride himself in Asahi’s breathlessness when he was panting himself.

“What- what was… _that_?” Asahi murmured.

Nishinoya grinned. “The start of two years of pent up frustration to compensate.”

“Shit…” And then Asahi was the one kissing him, not waiting for Nishinoya to gather his breath but instead gathering him into his arms, pulling the smaller boy from the ground, shaky hands coaxing Nishinoya’s legs around his waist. Nishinoya wasn’t the only one who spent two years frustrated, it seemed. The thought made him smile against Asahi’s mouth and he happily curled his hands tighter into Asahi’s hair.

Asahi stopped kissing his lips to kiss his face, mouth dancing over his cheeks, nose, forehead, down his jaw, down his neck and Nishinoya whimpered softly every time Asahi’s teeth grazed against the sensitive skin, too careful, too light.

When Asahi pulled back to let them breathe, he awkwardly cleared his throat before murmuring, “I, uh, assume we’re supposed to take this to the bedroom.”

Considering Nishinoya was sure his hard on was digging into Asahi’s stomach, he couldn’t disagree.

“Unless you want to fuck on the couch.” Nishinoya couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the older boy. Predictably, Asahi blushed and Nishinoya grinned at his embarrassment. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not,” Asahi whined, blushing harder, though that may have had something to do with Nishinoya’s body pressed against his crotch.

Nishinoya leant forward again to brush his lips against Asahi’s pouting ones. “Adorable.”

Asahi nipped Nishinoya’s bottom lip. “Stop saying that.”

“ _Make me_ ,” Nishinoya breathed and Asahi kissed him like every cliché said he would.

Still holding him, still kissing him, Asahi attempted to get them to the bedroom but they hadn’t turned on the light when they had come in earlier and nothing killed the mood like tripping to a possible death. So Nishinoya dropped to his feet, unsteadily, but Asahi kept him standing, pulling him through the dark, kissing him quickly. He was too busy running a hand down Nishinoya’s cheek, neck, to turn the bedroom light on when they finally got inside but it didn’t matter anyway. They could see each other clearly. All Nishinoya could see was Asahi.

They fought to push each other onto the bed, hands knotted so tight on each other’s shirts, it’s a wonder nothing rips. Asahi yelped as Nishinoya won their battle, clamouring on top of Asahi’s body as he laughed and Asahi was laughing too.

“Okay so maybe I could have done that more seductively,” he admitted.

Nishinoya rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to seduce me. I’m already yours.”

Asahi spluttered, face stained pink, but he couldn’t find a response to Nishinoya’s forwardness and Nishinoya was too preoccupied with looking at Asahi, really _looking_ at him. The older boy was laid back, leaning up slightly on his elbows, his hair a mess, his lips wet and-

 _He’s looking at me. He’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world_.

Nishinoya leant down to kiss Asahi’s smile, balancing his hands on Asahi’s chest. When their eyes met again, the tension between them spoke of years of desire, years of wanting but not touching. Asahi’s eyes said _finally_ but not impatiently and Nishinoya was the same. Any minute sooner would have felt as though he were not ready.

But now he was. Now they were.

“Undress me,” he commanded.

For once, Asahi didn’t get embarrassed and his hands didn’t shake as he sat up, the smaller boy still comfortably on his lap, and pushed Nishinoya’s jacket off his shoulders and his t-shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor with barely a sound. All that could hear between them was themselves, their heartbeats racing together and Asahi inhaling when Nishinoya exhaled.

Nishinoya pushed away from Asahi to pull off his own jeans and when he looked up again, Asahi was shirtless. His hands trembled above the button of his jeans, waiting for Nishinoya’s confirmation, and Nishinoya caught his hands in his own in answer. Asahi sighed in relief.

“It’s okay,” he said and Nishinoya kissed him, their bare skin flush against each other, hoping the kiss could convey his pride. _It’s okay. You’re here and we’re okay._

Quickly but not hastily, they took off their jeans and underwear and just sat across from each other but only a breath between them, Nishinoya kneeling up to meet Asahi at eye level. Unashamed, Nishinoya tilted his head to the side to look at Asahi and wonder how he had ever thought any measure of imagination could prepare him for how beautiful the other boy- the other _man_ was. This wasn’t some high school fantasy. Asahi was all tanned skin stretched over toned muscles, the body of an athlete, an _ace_. It wasn’t that he was perfect – he was rugged and messy and Nishinoya knew his mom would disapprove at sight, not to mention that his blushing face resembled that of a school girl which didn’t fit with the rest of his bad boy image – but rather, Asahi Azumane was just _right_. When Nishinoya reached out to touch the hand Asahi’s used to cover his embarrassed face, to lace his own fingers through it, they slotted together like perfect puzzle pieces. It was such a simple but intimate gesture as they both stared at their linked fingertips, Nishinoya’s small, pale hand in Asahi’s larger, tanned one in awe.

To break the silence, Nishinoya cleared his throat and then said, clearly, confidently, “You’re beautiful, Asahi-san.”

Predictably, Asahi flushed harder and started to say, “I’m n-” before Nishinoya leant forward and kissed his adorable little frown, repeating himself as he leant back. “You are beautiful.”

“But-” Again, Nishinoya interrupted with a kiss but this time, it was longer, firmer, as if he hoped the words on his lips would seal Asahi’s with acceptance. He had his palms flat against the bed beside Asahi’s thighs and the urge to touch him was almost unbearable but Nishinoya would’ve gladly kissed him all day if it meant the outcome would be Asahi realising just how wonderful he was to Nishinoya.

“You are beautiful, Asahi Azumane,” he whispered, with their lips still touching and their eyes fixed on each other.

It was a moment before Asahi laughed softly, turning away, and Nishinoya was ready to kiss him again before he said, “So are you.” Nishinoya kissed him anyway.

He felt Asahi smile before warm hands pressed against the back of his neck and their mouths opened against each other. Nishinoya’s tongue touched Asahi’s and a heat began to unfurl in the pit of his stomach. He was a cheesy idiot (he wasn’t going to deny that) but he wasn’t unfeeling nor was he blind. The idea of being able to touch Asahi, of Asahi wanting to touch him, had his whole body jittering. He reached out to run a hand down Asahi’s neck, slowly, feeling each natural human abrasion with a close-eyed concentration that had Asahi’s breath catching. Nishinoya’s fingertips grazed across the small hairs on Asahi’s chest and the planes of his abdominal, his thumb scraping against the sensitive skin that began to move in and out quicker with every breath that Asahi pressed against the other’s mouth. Nishinoya followed the path of dark curls downwards, dangerously, and Asahi’s self-control snapped, stopping Nishinoya’s hand to lace it between his own and pulling the shorter boy back onto his lap before recapturing his mouth.

He had imagined his first time before – everyone probably had, at some point – and Nishinoya had definitely thought about being with Asahi but daydreams didn’t catch the awkward entanglement of limbs, the times when their teeth met and their noses bumped, how there was something both erotic and ridiculous about the way they pressed against each other, the moments where they had to stop to touch their foreheads together, to catch their breath, to laugh at how absurd it was – that they had loved each other for so long yet it felt like part of them were fumbling high school boys, still trying to understand.

But they understood. Two years and they finally understood.

“Can I…” Asahi trailed off, his nerves apparent in the way his hands strayed from the back of Nishinoya’s neck to his shoulders and up again to his face. But Asahi swallowed, eyes closed, and Nishinoya waited. Some people just needed some time. Asahi Azumane was one of them.

When Asahi opened his eyes, the determination in them was alike to what Nishinoya saw on the volleyball court. A fire that promised strength, fulfilment. Nishinoya’s skin burned in response.

“Can I touch you?” Asahi asked quietly.

Nishinoya nodded, unable to speak as the expression in Asahi’s eyes softened. He allowed Asahi to lower him gently back onto the bed, let him hold Nishinoya’s face in gentle hands before he pressed their lips together to say, “thank you.”

Something about the admiration in Asahi’s smile, the gratitude in his tone made Nishinoya feel strangely embarrassed. He turned away with a small huff but his lips turned up on their own accord. He had always loved Asahi, every bit of the clumsy, anxious boy, so much that he didn’t think he could ever love him any more than he already did – but here he was, listening to Asahi ask for what he wanted.

And he wanted Nishinoya.

Understanding meant rhythm and they understood each other. Nishinoya understood that, sometimes, Asahi would pause, to catch his breath, to just look at Nishinoya with part disbelief, part wonder and Asahi understood that Nishinoya couldn’t be still, not out of impatience but because that was just _him_. Yet they found a rhythm and not despite their imperfections but because of them, speeding up and slowing down accordingly.

And even though Nishinoya had initiated this, really, to make up for their lost time, it was Asahi who touched the flames first, as if he deserved to be burned. There was something about Asahi’s touch that felt like an apology, over and over. Every kiss, every bite, every stroke was _sorry sorry sorry_. And when Nishinoya was too close to an edge he didn’t want to jump from alone, he pulled Asahi up from between his thighs and kissed him, even though it was kinda weird and a little disgusting. _I accept your apology_ , Nishinoya said, without words but with his mouth. _I accept you_. And from then onwards, Asahi stopped touching Nishinoya like he was sorry but rather that he was thankful.

But Asahi made sure that Nishinoya came first and Nishinoya wasn’t complaining, not when Asahi followed soon after, biting Nishinoya’s name into his shoulder as Asahi’s echoed the room _Asahi Asahi Asahi Asahi_ until they slowed to a stop and it was nothing but a whisper, a prayer, into Nishinoya’s laced fists, his sweat-drenched forehead resting on his forearm as his throat ran coarse. He felt Asahi’s head drop to his shoulder, soft tufts of hair sticking to Nishinoya’s neck and warm breaths tickling his back. With his eyes closed and his heartbeat stuttering itself to a slow regularity, Nishinoya focused on Asahi – on the laboured sound of his breathing and his fingertips that had gone from gripping to holding Nishinoya’s sides but not without leaving subtle bruises he wouldn’t really feel until morning.

It took a minute before Nishinoya’s body stopped trembling and he could lift his head up without the world spinning and when he spoke, his voice was scratchy. He was all burnt out. “Asahi?”

Asahi looked up just as Nishinoya looked back at him. Strands of hair stuck to his face and his eyes were tired but soft, similar to the smile on his bruised lips. “Noya.”

Of course, no one liked to ackowledge the aftermath of sex, other than the cuddling or the walk of shame. Nishinoya opened his mouth and ended up blurting out, “Are you going to sleep with yourself stuck up my butt?”

Asahi groaned loudly, not out of pleasure, and Nishinoya grinned until he felt Asahi pull out, the awkward sound of the process ringing in the silent room. He bit his lip hard but he couldn’t stop a snigger from escaping. Asahi gently shoved his shoulder in warning but that only pushed Nishinoya into full blown stomach-holding laughter, only broken when he attempted to lay back flat on the bed and felt his body respond with sensitivity.

Asahi immediately looked panicked. “Does it hurt? Did I-”

“Nah,” Nishinoya interrupted quickly, softening the blow of his word by touching Asahi’s frown with his thumb, pushing his lips upwards. “Feels gross though.”

“Maybe we should shower.”

“Too tired for more.” Nishinoya yawned, which only emphasised his point. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” Asahi repeated in a daze, confusion clear on his face, before realisation struck and he flushed. “I meant to wash up! N-not that-”

“Asahi-san. _That_ is what we just did and what we just did was sex,” Nishinoya remarked bluntly. “You can’t be embarrassed to say it.”

“I’m not!” It would have helped Asahi’s case if he didn’t just blush harder but Nishinoya couldn’t help but watch him fondly. He really was adorable – for a lanky, muscled, unshaven, mop-haired society concern.

Spending too long under Nishinoya’s microscope, Asahi sighed, shifting off the bed. “I’ll get some tissues or something.”

Nishinoya didn’t reply, knowing that if he opened his mouth, he’d end up pointing out how good Asahi’s butt looked and Asahi would only put some pants on. Instead, he admired in silence and, when Asahi cleaned him up, he found the situation less awkward and more intimate (with a side touch of gross.) When Asahi was done, Nishinoya kissed him and whispered, “thank you,” and he knew Asahi knew that it wasn’t about cleaning him up or even the sex. _Thank you for coming back_.

When Asahi crawled back into bed, he slid an arm around Nishinoya as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “How about that pent up frustration?”

Nishinoya groaned, rolling over to his stomach and glaring at the other boy. “I’m not done with you, mister.”

“Are you sure about that?” Asahi kissed his cheek teasingly, affectionately.

Nishinoya couldn’t even fake being mad for long so he closed his eyes to avoid doing something embarrassing like squealing at how cute Asahi was. “Yeah, so you better not go anywhere.”

It took a minute for Nishinoya to register his own casual words and by then, it was too late. The room was quiet, the regularity of heartbeats and breathing balancing out erratic thoughts and careless words.

And then Asahi spoke, softly, staring up at the ceiling. “At first, I left because I was scared. I was running away. While I was away I realised that maybe some distance was what I needed. I’ve never been good with my feelings so I wanted to clear my head.”

“And then?” Nishinoya prompted.

Asahi met his eyes without hesitation. “I needed to change. I couldn’t come back to Karasuno only to run away again. I had to be stronger for you.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.” When Asahi stiffened, Nishinoya rolled himself onto his side so he was curled up against Asahi, his head resting against Asahi’s chest. He kissed the skin in front of him and felt Asahi exhale at the touch of Nishinoya’s lips. “I don’t need you to be strong for me. Be strong for _you_. I’m plenty strong myself.”

When he looked up, half fearful of Asahi’s reaction (he wouldn’t put it past Asahi to cry), the older boy was peering him down at him with an unreadable expression before he tilted his head to smile at Nishinoya in a way that could not be described as anything but _loving_. “You were always my strength, Noya. You know that, right?”

Nishinoya felt his face heat up and his reply was muffled in Asahi’s chest. “Were you always this lame?”

He felt, rather than saw, Asahi laugh before a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead. “Let me correct myself. You’re still my strength.”

Nishinoya groaned. “You’re even _lamer_.”

It seemed like Nishinoya was not the only one running his mouth. “You love it,” Asahi said playfully, before his words caught up with him and he froze, meeting Nishinoya’s eyes with his own wide like a deer caught in headlights.

It went without saying but there was a time and a place for words that didn’t belong in the heat of the moment but rather the burn of the aftermath. So instead, Nishinoya smiled, holding onto Asahi tighter. “Yeah, I do.”

The next morning, Nishinoya woke Asahi up with three words and a promise of a whole lifetime of pent up frustration. There would be more to life every day and that more would be Asahi Azumane.

 _They were home_.


End file.
